Dumbledore's Fall
by HazySunray
Summary: Is one for us all... A nameless character describes the shadow Dumbledore's death brought upon the wizarding world.


I was just an ordinary student. I was not the teacher's favourite, or the Quidditch captain, or the one who did extra curricular activities. I did not get especially good grades, nor especially bad ones. I stayed above average, blended in, did what a nondescript person is supposed to do. I was not an exceptional student.

I ate my meals in the great hall, made sure not to let my potion explode during class, tried not to fall off my broomstick during practice, studied my notes and read my books, practiced my spells and tended to the creatures behind Hagrid's hut.

I was an ordinary student, really.

The perfect guinea pig, if you ask me. It seemed almost as though my life had boiled down to feeling only what happened all around me, simply because nothing happened in my own life. I was not Hermione Granger, who not only seemed to know close to everything about anything at all, but was also always in the thick of things. I was not her boyfriend (Were they dating or not? A figurant like myself only knows these things going by gossip, of course.) Ronald Weasley, either, who was great at Quidditch and had a good sense of humor to boot. I was most certainly not the famous Harry Potter, our boy who lived, who should have gotten E's on all his exams simply because he was The Chosen One. If anyone had anything to do with the events of tonight, it was him. I was also not Draco Malfoy; another person who always seemed to have something up his sleeve - something else planned. Draco's mind was something that a lot of people wished for, I'm sure. The ability to think and plan things out quickly could certainly be a very handy attribute to call your own. I wasn't even that Neville Longbottom, who wormed his way into all the adventure sheerly by being himself. Or Dean, or Seamus. Not even Parvati, or Katie, or one of those people from Durmstrang or whatever. I wasn't even a 'whatever'. Really, I was a nobody. And don't take that lightly, either. I'm sure headmaster Dumbledore didn't even know who I was.

But iI/i knew who ihe/i was, and that made all the difference.

When we found his body on the ground, and everyone gathered around it, it hit me like a bomb. Because you see, I wasn't the type of person who would get nightmares about the future, or who would sense bad things coming from a mile away. I didn't speak to those who did or could, and I didn't listen in on other people's conversations about these things, either. So when I saw him lying there, immobile, eyes open a crack with heavy bags of fatigue symbolising all the hard effort he had put into his school, it came to me. And I knew.

There was no more magic at Hogwarts.

Seems like a very incorrect thing to say, considering all the spells we learned in that building. And certainly, even standing here with tears pouring down our faces, we all knew that we would pick ourselves back up again and get back onto our feet, if simply because that was the way life was. People imove on/i; it's what they're supposed to do. And yes, indeed, we iwould/i rebuild the school, most likely with the help of a couple of spells here or there, but the magic would be bleak. Sorrowful. We would not be casting spells because we admired and respected and were grateful toward the one at the head of the school, but because we had to honour his remains. But what was Hogwarts without professor Dumbledore? What was red Fawkes without our white headmaster? What was to become of the ties we had with other schools? With the ministry? With the giants? What about all our allies? Why didn't they intervene? Why didn't they stop this?

The happiness had drained from the castle's walls. And so had the emotional ties we had with its corridors. With that, there was only one more thing that had to go. The magic.

The only thing that tied us all together, really. We were not only so different that we had to be seperated into different houses, but within those houses we were all unique. Some of us weren't even completely human. Really and truly, the only thing that we had that was alike was our ability to use magic. Oh, and our shared hatred for Voldemort. Though, come to think of it, apparently there are some followers of his in Slytherin. Yet again, I'm only going by gossip, here.

And surely, we've all lost precious people in this battle, besides headmaster Dumbledore. Well, not me. I have ordinary wizard parents who do ordinary wizardly things like brewing potions and trying to make themselves as invisible as me. I did not grow up unloved, or unwanted, nor as the prodigy the entire family had been waiting for. I was just me. Myself; as unimportant as my family, though crucial and necessary in order to provide a state of "abnormalcy" to those who want to shine out.

Where was I going with this? I'm sorry, I get a little scatterbrained sometimes (just like everyone else). Oh. Right. Losing loved ones. So, as I was saying, everyone has certainly lost one thing or another during this battle (war, really) but that doesn't take away the fact that the loss of our grand headmaster has changed everything completely. See, to lose those who fight is sort of evident. Not expected, just obvious. Normal. The 'most powerful wizard of all time' dropped dead at our feet? Not so. But these things are inevitable, unavoidable. If our headmaster wasn't able to foresee it, then nobody could have. He was like the Yoda of our time.

And yet, to acknowledge this fact leaves me with a bitter taste on my tongue, like bad pumpkin juice.

I know that from now on, we will all gradually learn to grow up, to move on, to get over it. We'll stop questioning the 'what-ifs' and 'should-we-haves' and start living in the now. We'll grow accustomed to the greyness of the castle walls and new headmaster or headmistress if you please. We'll learn not to question the lack of warmth in the great hall, the lack of murkiness in the dungeons, the lack of terror when confronted by Filch (scratch that). We'll learn not to be surprised when the headmasters of other schools stop searching for Dumbledore's face during a match or perhaps the Triwizard Tournament. We'll stop thinking about how things used to be, and if someone brings it up during some or other gathering, we'll all shoot that person a meaningful glare and sit quietly with our heads in our hands, trying to will away the flashbacks.

I know that's how it will be. How? 'Cause it's people like me who are supposed to get that act started. It's people like me who get things back under control and the wheels turning and the 'special' people back onto their feet. It's us, the unimportant, faceless ones you wouldn't look for in a crowd, that make it so that the story can go on. And it's within this shallow little truth that I can find myself again and continue being me, bold or not, whatever it is that I need to be in order to become ordinary.

No-no, tut-tut, don't go "But-I-thought"-ing. Shush. Tell yourself you're special. That's right. What right do I have to point at you? You know better - you know you would be a protagonist in this story. And there's no need to feel ashamed; it's just how you are. It's how everyone is.

You're the one; exceptional, brave, kind, important, special.

Just like everyone else.


End file.
